


For A Winter's Night

by Namarie



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8877910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namarie/pseuds/Namarie
Summary: It's the holiday season, but Ressler's thoughts are far from merry as he struggles with a loss that is still too fresh.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I decided I wanted some Christmas fluff, but with some added angst. This was the result. (Not related to any of my other fics/series, but I haven't forgotten those, either!)
> 
> Thanks to Mack_the_Spoon for the beta.

~~  
It took him a few minutes to figure out why he felt so bad, so soon after waking up. He had been doing okay recently. He felt like he was getting back on his feet, so what was the problem? Why did getting out of bed seem almost like too much effort? And then he remembered: today was the twelfth of December.

Today was Audrey's birthday.

Swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, Ressler pushed off the covers and got up. It was a cold, gray morning. The heavy clouds outside his window threatened snow later. It was the kind of day Audrey would have loved. He could picture her face, suddenly and painfully clear, smiling at him as she got out her scarf and hat and gloves. She loved winter, especially the snow. He was never sure whether that was because her birthday fell in December, or whether she would have loved winter weather just as much even if her birthday was in spring.

Ressler sighed and rubbed a hand over his face as he started his morning routine. It was a Saturday, which was too bad. He would have preferred the distraction of work. Although, he supposed, he should really visit her grave today, and at least this meant he could do that in the daytime. But aside from making that trip, there would be little else to occupy his thoughts. Little else to distract him from the grief and pain.

Only a few months ago, he would have had something else to help him handle this, Ressler knew, with a feeling of guilt for even thinking about it. He wasn't going to go down that road, though. He had been clean for nearly three months now. What would Audrey think, if she knew he had fallen off the wagon to numb the pain of her death? She wouldn't be pleased, that much was certain. Not that it ever would have happened if she hadn't... If he hadn't put her in danger... But Ressler shook his head. His thoughts were going in circles. He needed to get out of the apartment, get out of his head.

It was sort of a shock, to go into the city and see all the lights and holiday decorations up everywhere. Ressler laughed to himself without humor. It was less than two weeks until Christmas. Of course everything would be decorated. Still, it was another painful reminder. The lights, garlands, music, and all the other holiday trimmings had been another of Audrey's favorite things about the season.

Huddling into the warmth of his coat, Ressler hurried from his car into the florist's shop. The place wasn't too crowded, but it was busy enough at least that neither of the two employees felt a need to bother him while he looked around. He made his selection from the pre-made bouquets. Then with a mumbled thanks to the cashier, he was out of there.

The trip to the cemetery took both too long and not long enough, as usual. Ressler parked, and then took a deep breath. It was snowing now, just a light dusting. Audrey would have something to say about him having forgotten a scarf or gloves, even after his memory of her this morning. He did have some gloves in the car, at least.

As he was putting them on, Ressler looked out through the windshield. He froze. There were Audrey's parents, walking out of the cemetery hand in hand. Audrey's mother was wiping tears off her face with her other hand. _Oh, God._ He should've known they would come today. At least they hadn't actually run into each other. Feeling like a coward, he shrank back in his seat, waiting as they walked past his car. They had never said anything that suggested they blamed him for their daughter's death, but they didn't have to. Even without their confirmation, he already knew he had taken their child from them. Their child – and possibly their grandchild.

Sniffing, Ressler stayed where he was until he was sure the Bidwells were gone. He swiped a hand under his eyes. Then he got out of the car. The snow was falling more thickly now. He shivered.

Audrey's parents' bouquet was beautiful, a bright splash of color against the dark headstone. Ressler let out an uneven breath. He laid his own flowers down next to theirs, and then stepped back. “Happy birthday, Audrey,” he said quietly.

There was no reason to linger. It was cold, and he had done what he came here to do. With one last glance at the words carved into the headstone, Ressler turned and trudged back to his car. He didn't think he was going to have the strength to come out here again on Christmas. Maybe he could leave that to her family this time, though once again that felt like being a coward.

When he got back to his apartment, it was only a little past noon. Ressler sighed and shrugged out of his coat. He should eat something, he supposed. He was only sort of hungry. More than that, though... He clenched his jaw. It was too early in the day to drink, even though that would still be a better choice than what he really wanted. What he was starting to crave.

With a growl of disgust at himself, Ressler stalked into his kitchen. He'd make himself some lunch, and then maybe watch something on Netflix. Anything to get his mind off this day, and what this day made him want to do.

That idea worked all right for several hours. Ressler ate his lunch, then watched a couple of episodes of a show he'd heard about and been vaguely interested in. It wasn't bad. After those three or four episodes, though, that was about his limit for TV watching for the day. And there were still multiple hours left before the day was over. It was almost dinner time, in fact. Last year, he would have been going out to dinner with Audrey.

The grief came roaring back then, and the desire to get rid of the pain was almost as overwhelming. Ressler stood up and started to pace. There were no pills in his apartment. He had made sure of that. But it wouldn't be too difficult to get some. He'd found a way to get them before. Hell, there were plenty of areas in the city where for the right price, he could just buy a couple of weeks' supply.

He was moving toward his front door before he realized what was happening. “No!” The word sounded ridiculously loud in his empty apartment. He needed to stop this. He had to. He needed...

Breathing heavily, Ressler grabbed his phone and scrolled through his contacts, not letting himself overthink this.

Liz picked up after just a few rings. “Hey, Ressler,” came her voice. She sounded cheerful. “What's up?”

“I--” Ressler cleared his throat. “I'm, uh, I'm not interrupting your dinner or anything, am I?”

She assured him he wasn't. “I haven't actually gotten dinner yet, to be honest,” she told him. “Hadn't decided what to order yet. I guess I'm being kind of lazy today.”

He should probably have continued the lighthearted tone of the conversation at that point, Ressler thought, gripping the phone tightly. But he didn't think he could. “Oh. Right.” Apparently he wasn't even going to succeed at any kind of normal response.

There was a pause. “Ressler, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” The word was all too easy to say – the desire to deal with this himself, to not show any weakness. As if his partner hadn't already seen him at his worst.

“Are you sure? You don't sound okay.”

“Yeah, I'm...” He licked his lips. No, he needed to tell her. There was a reason he'd called her, after all, wasn't there? “It's … it's Audrey's birthday today.”

Her “oh” in response was full of understanding and compassion. “Those days are always hard to deal with,” she said gently, after another short pause. “And you shouldn't try to get through them alone. Come over for dinner. I'll order double. Chinese okay?”

Ressler had to smile at that. She wasn't really giving him the option of saying no – and he didn't mind. In fact, his heart lightened just a bit. “Sure. Order whatever you want.”

“Fine,” she said. “I'll call it in as soon as I hang up. And Ressler...” She paused, and then went on, “I'm going to start worrying about you if you don't get over here right away.”

“I'm getting my coat right now,” he told her, suiting actions to words. The longer he spent here in his empty apartment by himself, the more risk he was putting himself through. She was definitely right about that.

~  
Liz opened her door right away after his knock, and welcomed him in even as her eyes scanned his face. “The food's not here yet, but it shouldn't be too long of a wait.”

“That's fine,” said Ressler. He took off his coat, and Liz put it away in her motel room's little front closet.

“Sorry the place isn't exactly festive for the holidays,” Liz said, as the two of them stepped into the main room. She shrugged, looking sheepish. “My decorations are all still in storage.”

“Hey, I'm not going to criticize,” Ressler returned. “Pretty sure I've never decorated my apartment of my own will, so...” Before they had broken off the engagement all those years ago, Audrey had been the one in charge of decking the halls.

Silence fell after that, as Liz probably came to that conclusion for herself. She looked down, and then came closer to take his hand. “I'm sorry for what you're going through,” she said.

Ressler nodded, finding it difficult to speak at the moment. The change in location and the fact that he wasn't alone right now did help with the urge to use, but that didn't mean the pain was gone.

Liz opened her mouth, and then stopped. She shook her head and started again. “I want to ask you something, just so we can both get it out of the way first thing.”

“Then ask,” he said. He had a feeling he knew what she was going to say.

“How are you doing? Are you staying clean?” She met his gaze then, direct and unapologetic.

“It's been two months, two weeks, and almost five days since I last used,” he said, matching her directness. Then he looked away. “But, uh … today hasn't been easy.”

“Yeah.” Liz let out a sigh. “I can imagine.”

She dropped the subject at that point, when there was another knock on her door. It was the delivery guy. The next hour or so was taken up with eating their dinner – of which Liz had ended up ordering more than enough. They talked about work some of the time, though not too much. Mostly, Liz shared some funny and sweet holiday memories from her childhood with her dad, and Ressler responded in kind. It was nice to be able to focus on good things associated with the season. Sure, Ressler missed his dad, too, but that grief had softened over the years. And besides, he and Liz didn't usually get much time to just relax, talk, and enjoy each other's company outside of work. That was definitely nice.

By the time dinner was winding down, Ressler felt much, much better than he had when he arrived. Of course his addiction was still there – but he was more confident he could make it through today, at least.

At that moment, Liz yawned, stretched, and stood up. “Here, give me your empty boxes,” she said, holding out her hand. “I'll take this stuff to the garbage outside.”

Holding back a yawn of his own, Ressler handed it over. He was feeling pretty content, and a little sleepy. That only lasted until Liz opened her door, and let out an exclamation of surprise.

“What?” He sat up in his chair.

“Uh … I guess we should have been paying attention to the weather,” was her reply. “Look at this.”

That didn't exactly sound good. Ressler pulled himself up and went to join her at the door. Then he let out a low whistle.

In the glow of the nearest streetlight, there was almost nothing but white to be seen – a thick layer of snow covering the trees, sidewalks, parking lot, and street. And it was still coming down. Liz shivered and shut the door.

“Well,” said Ressler, into the silence, “uh, I guess I can find out if this place has any rooms available for the night.”

Liz laughed once. “Yeah, I don't think it's a good idea for anyone to try to go anywhere out there right now.” She gave him an apologetic look as she added, “And, um, I don't even have a couch for you to crash on here. Sorry.”

“It's all right, Liz,” he said quickly. “The snow isn't your fault – although like you said, we probably should have paid closer attention to how things were looking earlier.”

As it turned out, once Liz dug around and found the number for the motel management, Ressler learned that there were two rooms available: one at the complete opposite end of the complex, and one just two doors down. To his relief, the manager seemed to be a decent guy, too. Once Ressler explained his situation, the man said he'd be happy to meet Ressler at the room, let him in, and accept a cash deposit for the night instead of Ressler having to walk all the way to reception to check in properly.

Ressler went out to his car first and got the overnight back he always carried – carefully, wishing he were wearing shoes more suited to several inches of snow. Then, since Liz had said she wanted to talk a little more before they retired for the evening, he followed his own footprints back to her door. His shoes were only mostly soaked through by the time he got there.

“Ooh,” said Liz with a wince, when he came into the entryway. “Sorry about your shoes, Ressler. I guess I'm making you walk through the snow even more than absolutely necessary.”

He shrugged, and set down his bag. “They'll dry.”

Liz nodded. Then there was a pause.

“What was it that you wanted to talk about before we call it a night?” he prompted, when she didn't continue right away.

“It was really just one thing I wanted to say,” she replied. She took a breath. “Ressler, I'm glad you called me this evening, and I'm glad I could help you get through a hard day. I hope you know that you can call me anytime, and it won't be an imposition for me to do what I can. Besides, tonight was fun.” She smiled.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed, returning the smile. “And, um, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“I'm not quite finished.” Now she met his gaze again, direct as she had been when she'd asked whether he was still clean. “All that said, I still don't think it's a good idea for you to keep trying to – to do so much of this on your own. I really think you should find the nearest NA meeting.”

Ressler clenched his fists. His instinctive reaction was to deny it, to snap at her that he didn't need to join some support group, and she should mind her own damn business, regardless. But he stopped himself from saying any of that. She was right. He'd known that for a while.

“It's not weakness to get help when you need it,” she added softly. She smiled again. “And I need you to stay in fighting form, anyway. Who else is going to watch my back while we're chasing down bad guys?”

“Uh huh, right,” Ressler said, eyebrows raised. “I think it's more accurate to say that you watch _my_ back when we're chasing bad guys. Because I usually end up pretty far ahead of you, actually, as I recall.”

Liz laughed, and then shoved him in the arm. “Shut up, Ressler.”

“Seriously, though,” he went on, “thanks. And … I'll look into where the nearest NA meetings are held. I promise.”

The relief in her expression was clear. “Good. I'm glad to hear it.”

Ressler nodded and picked up his bag. “Good night, Liz.”

“Good night, Ressler.”

~

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I chose Audrey's birthdate to accommodate the fic topic. Feel free to let me know if I'm incorrect, but I don't think we know what it is in canon. I'm also acting under the assumption that Ressler didn't start NA right away after “Mombasa Cartel”, based on his interactions with Liz in "The Scimitar."
> 
> The title of this story is a reference to "Song For A Winter's Night". Sarah McLachlan's cover of this, along with much of her "Wintersong" album, makes a good soundtrack for Christmas angst & fluff.


End file.
